


The Wine is Not Enough

by ikkiM



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Premiere Fic Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-02 19:37:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6579676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikkiM/pseuds/ikkiM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brienne Tarth is convinced by her best friend to attend the premiere of his sister's new film, <em>The Wine is Not Enough.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Premiere Minus 27Hours, 32Minutes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SandwichesYumYum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandwichesYumYum/gifts), [QuizzicalQuinnia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuizzicalQuinnia/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Quinn and Sandwiches. The two of you took sledgehammers to my writers' block and pulled this fic out. Thank you for your unwavering kindness and support.

Brienne stood in their kitchen, drying dishes and swearing she would not cave no matter how much he begged, no matter how he used his puppy dog eyes on her. Not this time. Over the years, she’d attended too many miserable Lannister functions with him only to be mocked and insulted. She had hated every single one. Never again.

“Come on, Brienne, you’re my dearest friend, my favorite ally, and my roommate. You have to come with me to my sister’s movie premiere. You _have_ to.” He opened his eyes wide, pooched out his lips and tilted his head to one side, a look designed to make her feel guilty. A look that usually worked. “My brother will be there,” he added.

Brienne growled and threw a tea towel at him. “I absolutely do not have to go with you. Why would you even ask me? I’d be completely out of place at a movie premiere. And _your brother_ thinks I’m a freak.”

Tyrion rolled his eyes. “Jaime most certainly does not think you’re a freak.”

“He thought I was a man.”

He sighed. “It was my fault that you got off on the wrong foot. He was expecting to be picked up by my old roommate, Bronn. Not my new roommate, Brienne. That was a forever ago anyway. You’ve forgiven him. Especially now that he’s become a near permanent fixture on our couch.”

She snorted. She had forgiven Jaime, but she knew better than to concede a point to Tyrion that easily. “He calls me ‘wench.’”

“See. He definitely identifies you as a woman now.” Tyrion waggled his brows suggestively. “And you’re not just any wench, you’re _his_ wench. Remember when Ronnie Connie tried to use that nickname and Jaime cracked his jaw?”

Brienne huffed and crossed her arms. “Jaime was just mad because he says he’s the only one allowed to pester me.” Not that it hadn’t been supremely satisfying to see Connington with blood gushing from his big, fat, stupid nose.

“See, Jaime likes you,” Tyrion argued. “Come on, Briebriekins, I know you have a crush on him.”

Brienne felt her face turn crimson. “That was before I met you, when all I knew about him was that he was one of the three best fencers in the world.” He’d always competed with honor on the fencing strip, but his reputation had taken a hit when he became a Valewood film producer. An infamous one at that. “Now that I’ve met him, I can’t stand him.” She flushed at the lie and muttered, “And my name is Brienne.”

“So this will be a chance to show him just how much you can’t stand him since he still thinks you like him,” Tyrion reasoned with the sly smirk. “That’s exactly why you should come with me.”

Brienne didn’t see how that made sense at all, but knew she wouldn’t be able to shake Tyrion from his position. She tried another tack. “Cersei hates me and wouldn’t want me at her movie premiere. She barely tolerated me at the Warrior’s Feast dinner.”

Tyrion nodded. “True, she does. But have you seen the pre-screening reviews of the film?” He tapped on his phone and began reading. “ _Cersei Baratheon, the Varys Award-winning actress, was both behind and in front of the lens for her latest project, The Wine is Not Enough. The forty-four year old cast herself as Rhaenysianne, the young ingénue, a role that clearly should have gone to supporting actress Dany Targaryen. Not only is Cersei unbelievable as an innocent girl, the movie itself is aimless. Cersei’s debut as a director is absolutely directionless. The only saving grace is the undeniable chemistry between Dany and male star, Khal Drogo, who are now quite the Valewood item. But you know the movie is wrong when you just want the lead to get off the screen. Wait until this one comes out on video. D minus_.” He snickered. “What kind of name is Rhaenysianne anyway? This movie is going to be _terrible_.”

“I don’t know and Cersei’s certainly not going to want me there to see it if it’s that bad.”

“On the contrary, dear Brienne, she needs to fill seats with as many people as possible who will clap at the end and at least pretend to have liked it.”

Brienne looked at him in disbelief. “You’re going to pretend to like it?”

“Of course not. I want to see my sister fail most spectacularly,” he said with wholly inappropriate glee. “And you want to see her fail too, don’t you?”

She sighed. “I don’t like your sister, but I’m not going to revel in her misery.”

“Spoilsport,” he muttered, then got that devious look in his eye. “If you don’t go as my date, I’ll be forced to find _another_ ,” Tyrion finished in a singsong voice as he waved his phone at her.

Brienne tried to snatch the device away from him, but he twisted his arm behind his back, keeping it from her reach.

“I thought you were done with women for hire? And you know the rule, no hookers in the house,” she reminded him.

Tyrion sighed. “I would be done with them if you’d be my date to this premiere. And you don’t want me to be tempted to break one of your precious house rules.”

“That’s manipulation, Tyrion Lannister. Pure manipulation. You know very well that you’re looking for something more than a one night stand.” Brienne was careful not to mention how a certain woman for hire had actually been bribed by Tyrion’s father to spy on him. “You want a real relationship.”

Tyrion nodded sagely, “I do, and that’s why my very best friend in the whole wide world must come with me and save me from temptation.”

Brienne could feel herself falling into the Tyrion Trap, where he said so many things and confused her until she found herself agreeing to his latest ridiculous scheme. She held fast. “Why can’t you take Bronn?”

He scoffed. “Bronn? What would he even wear? Bronn in a suit looks like a porn producer. I can’t be seen on a red carpet with _Bronn_.”

Brienne reared back. “You didn’t say anything about walking a red carpet. I will not walk a red carpet. I have nothing to wear, and besides, we’d look ridiculous.” She waved her hand vaguely to indicate their height differences.

His shoulders slumped, “Fine, no red carpet. We can sneak in the back, but you still have to wear the dress I bought you.”

“You bought me a _dress_?”

He smiled. “Of course I did. You think I’d let you go in jeans and a Galaxy Wars t-shirt? Don’t worry though, you’ll approve of it. So it’s settled then. Red carpet premiere, tomorrow. Pod will pick us up. We’ll sneak in the back and avoid the paps.”

Brienne sighed. She sensed missed something important but knew when she’d been beaten.

 


	2. Premiere Minus 01H 19M

Brienne slipped into the low-heeled shoes Tyrion had insisted she wear, going on about the flex of the muscles in her legs. Like that mattered. She’d pulled on a pair of thick, black, knit tights, long enough for her legs, but a bit baggy in the bottom underneath the simple, sleeveless blue dress he’d gotten her. It was loose-fitting enough that she didn’t feel like an aurochs, but ending at mid-thigh, it was still too short. She tugged it down a little more and then turned to her closet to find a cardigan to put over it.

“Good gods, what in the seven hells is going on with your ass?” Tyrion spoke from behind her.

She looked over her shoulder to find him standing in the doorway looking natty in his perfectly tailored suit, a tumbler of some liquor in one hand, his phone in the other. She glanced down at her butt. “What? It looks fine.” She caught the camera flash of his phone as she looked back up.

“Are you wearing a diaper under there?” he asked as he began tapping at his phone with his thumb.

“I’m wearing tights because this dress is too short. Why do you always forget how tall I am?” She turned back towards him, sweater in hand. “And you’d better not be sending a photo of my ass to anyone.”

Tyrion waved the phone at her and finished off his drink. “Too late. I need a second opinion.”

Brienne narrowed her eyes. “ _I_ don’t need a second opinion. The only opinion that matters is mine, and I think my ass looks the way it always does.” Wide and muscular, she failed to add.

His phone let out a duck-like squawk. “A new review is up!” He scrolled and then began reading, “ _It's a wonder Cersei Baratheon can maintain her trim figure open parentheses, liposuction question mark, close parentheses when she's not just chewing the scenery, she's eating it. I haven't seen such overdramatic hand-flailing since Cersei's ex-husband Robert Baratheon in Dances with Stags._ "

“Didn’t Robert win a Varys for that movie?” she asked. She and Jaime had re-watched it just the other night. Jaime had kept up a running commentary mocking everything from the art direction to the choreography.

“The Academy threw him a pity,” he replied as his phone played the first few bars of the sappy movie theme, _My Heart Will Persist_. He glanced at the response. “Jaime says his ass is better and has sent photographic proof.” He waggled the phone at her. “Wanna see?”

Brienne felt the heat creeping up her cheeks. “No. I do not want to see photos of your brother’s ass.”

“Liar,” Tyrion responded. “But back to talking about yours. Those lumpy black long johns you’re wearing have to go.”

Brienne shrugged into her sweater, making the decision that if she tried to reason with Tyrion, she’d end up losing. She instead went for straight obstinacy. “No.”

He looked her up and down. She stood firm. She would not fall into the Tyrion Trap again. He rolled his eyes and gave in, tossing his phone to her. She caught it. Glancing at the screen she saw firm, black-tuxedo-clad butt cheeks. She blushed mightily as Tyrion grinned.


	3. Premiere Minus 00H 38M

“I’ll take them off in the bathroom,” Brienne insisted as they sat in the back of one of the Lannister limousines, ready to disembark and head in through the back entrance of the theater.

“No. You won’t. You’ll escape to the ladies’ room and try to dry them by sticking your legs under the hot air blower and probably fall in the process,” Tyrion argued.

“If you hadn’t poured half a bottle of champagne on me, my tights wouldn’t be wet, and so what if I just want to dry them off?”

“I said I was sorry,” he replied, not looking even remotely sorry, yet still more apologetic than when he’d shaken the bottle to create a steady spray of sparkling wine, deliberately soaking her from knees down. “You smell like an Arbor grape-macerator.”

Brienne hated admitting it, but he was right. “And it’s all your fault.” She slipped off her shoes, wriggled out of her tights and slipped her feet back into the sodden footwear. “Are you happy?”

“Brienne, my dear, I’m well-liquored up and about to experience my sister’s big screen humiliation. I’ve got my best friend by my side, and my brother will be joining me. How could I not be happy?” He looked her up and down, jutting his chin out. “Oh I know what would make things perfect. Ditch the sweater.”

She looked down at her frayed cardigan. She’d known it was a mistake when she put it on. Tyrion’s clothes were always perfectly cut and tailored. Hers were practically from a bargain bin. She sighed and took off her sweater. “Now can we get out?”

“Not quite yet,” he informed her as he pulled a bag out from under the seat and unzipped it.

She eyed it suspiciously and then reared back in horror as he brandished a bottle of hair mousse and what could only be a tube of mascara. “No, no, absolutely not.”

Tyrion pointed the mousse spigot expertly and shot a stream directly into her bangs. “Oops, too late. Now lean down.”

Brienne knew she had no other choice. “I hate you, you know that.”

Tyrion scrunched his hands about in her hair. “You love me.” He leaned back and studied his work, then picked up the mascara. “Now for this.”

Brienne pulled back. “You know I can’t manage to put that stuff on without getting it in my eyes.”

He sighed. “How is it that you can draw maps with the precision of a machine, but you can’t put on a little eye makeup without completely botching it?”

“Probably because I’m a cartographer and not a makeup artist,” she grumbled.

He opened the tube and pointed it at her. “Now stay still, open your eyes, and do not blink. I’ve seen enough women do this. It shouldn’t be that difficult.”

Brienne wouldn’t put it past him to draw on her face if she didn’t obey but wasn’t about to give in that easily. “How can I open my eyes if I’m supposed to stay still?”

He narrowed his one green eye and widened the black one. She knew when she’d lost. She hunched over and opened her eyes wide as possible. A few quick flicks of his wrist and he leaned back, satisfied. Brienne sighed in frustration. Of course he could put makeup on her better without ever practicing than she could do it herself. “Now can we get out?”

He zipped up the bag, took another quick drink before grinning at her in satisfaction. “Of course. Ladies first.”

As Brienne heaved herself awkwardly out of the car, she heard and saw a camera flash behind her. “Tyrion, did you take another photo of my ass?”

He tapped on his screen as he exited the car. “I have to prove Jaime wrong, don’t I? We don’t want him to win the Best Ass in Westeros Contest. You’re a shoo-in now that you’ve gotten rid of those unsightly lumps.”

She rolled her eyes. “My butt wasn’t lumpy, and there is no such thing as a Best Ass in Westeros Contest.” And if there were, Jaime would most certainly win.

Tyrion’s phone played _My Heart Will Persist_ again. “Jaime says not to send him naughty photos when he’s on the red carpet. He says we should get inside and save him a seat.”

His phone made the squawking noise again. He scrolled through and snorted. “Listen to this. _You think the worst movie you’ve ever see was Crow’s Eye: Legend of the Dragon Emperor and His Magic Horn of Pirating Doom, well The Wine is Not Enough is worse. Is there a grade lower than an F?_ ”

 

 


	4. Premiere Minus 00H 19M

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime finally arrives.

Brienne had just gotten settled in the near-empty theater after Tyrion had informed her that there was no overly-buttered popcorn for red carpet premieres, in fact, no snacks at all.

Her stomach grumbled. “You could have warned me, Tyrion. You know how I get when I’m hungry.”

“You do like your food, but tonight we are dining on savory humiliation and the tasty tears of failure. And the good stuff.” He pulled a silver flask from his jacket pocket and waved it her direction.

She could feel her eyes grow wide, looking left and right, fearful of being caught by an usher with a contraband beverage. “You can’t bring liquor into a theater!”

A voice behind them said, “You’ve got liquor? Share?”

Brienne and Tyrion turned to see special effects virtuoso, Jon Snow, known for his on-screen resurrections, and Samwell Tarly, Valewood’s most learned project engineer, in the seats behind them. Sam had just unwrapped a Thousand Dragon bar. Brienne looked at it longingly.

“What do you have to trade, boys?” Tyrion asked.

Tarly took a big bite of candy and shrugged.

Snow turned to him, “Why didn’t you get the Sour Patch Ollies like I suggested? Then we’d have something.”

Sam shook his head as he swallowed. “It’s against the rules.”

Brienne furrowed her brow hoping Sam didn’t get caught eating. “What rules?”

“The rules of a movie set,” Sam answered. “Like ‘never be in the room when the executive producer finds out how much you’re over-budget,’ and ‘never use the Port-o-Walders after one p.m.’”  He took another healthy bite. “Never buy divisible candy.”

Jon groaned. “Come on, Lannister. Share the booze. I hear the movie is awful.” He pulled out his phone, scrolled and read, “ _The Wine is Not Enough is Cersei Baratheon’s opportunity to flex her acting muscles. Too bad they are ridiculously out of shape. After watching one hundred and forty-six minutes of this film, you’ll feel as if you’ve run a marathon. Or a gauntlet._ ”

Brienne turned to Tyrion, “It’s over two hours long?”

Tyrion uncapped his flask and took a hefty swig.

Sam offered her the last bite of his candy bar. _Over two hours_. She shoved the candy in her mouth and nodded her thanks to Sam. She was just chewing the chocolatey, caramelly goodness when a voice boomed from the back of the theatre.

“Wench!” Jaime Lannister, in his perfect tux with his perfect hair and his perfect perfectness, had _arrived_. He strode down the aisle as if he owned the place. According the Tyrion, the Lannisters actually did.

Brienne worked to suck the candy from her teeth before speaking, furiously licking the chocolate from her lips. Jaime stopped in the aisle beside her, looming over her with that glazed, bored expression he sometimes got when they were working out at the gym.

Tyrion’s phone squawked. He giggled beside her, “Listen to this. _You can compare this movie to some of the classically terrible films of all time; Battlefield Planetos, The Last Arrynbender, but The Wine is Not Enough isn’t even good enough to make a list of terribly bad. It’s just boring.”_

 

 


	5. Premiere 00H 00M

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The movie begins.

After standing up and sitting down what felt like a thousand times, Brienne found herself placed behind Khal Drogo with a Lannister brother on either side, Tyrion having insisted he couldn’t see if he were behind Khal; Jaime having insisted on claiming the aisle seat; Dany Targaryen in front of him having informed them all that she expected to take at least ten bathroom breaks. Drogo told them she had a bladder the size of a pea. Dany had just laughed and given a quick tug to his beard before heading off to the ladies’ room.

The lights dimmed, and Cersei was suddenly on screen, the back of her hand pressed to her forehead as she began speaking to a small, pink seashell. The crowd tittered.

Beside Brienne, Jaime took a moderate drink before replacing the cap and leaning into her as he passed the flask back to Tyrion. She could feel his hot breath on her neck and stiffened. He pressed closer and ... _was he sniffing her?_

"Wench, are you wearing perfume that smells like wine?” he whispered right in her ear.

"Your brother poured champagne on me!" she hissed back.

Tyrion rolled his eyes and looked up at her. "It was an accident.” He leaned across her to whisper to Jaime. "It was a good Volanti ‘92. You should try it."

Brienne looked down at Tyrion and growled, “It was most definitely not an accident, and you owe me a pair of tights.”

The brothers ignored her as Jaime whispered to Tyrion, “Do you have a spare bottle under your seat?”

Tyrion shook his head sadly. “I sacrificed it all in the name of Brienne’s ass. But if you give her leg a good long lick, I’m sure you’ll get the flavor.”

She saw Jaime’s knuckles whiten as his hand gripped the armrest in probable disgust. Best if she just changed the subject away from her overly muscular, manly legs before someone made a comment. “You could just drink it out of my shoes. They're all squelchy.” Somehow that wasn’t any better. “But it would probably taste like feet.”

The foot that was lodged firmly in her mouth. She grimaced.

Khal Drogo turned around and spoke, “Feet are hot.” He looked her up and down before murmuring, “And I bet you have very long toes. Are the nails painted pink?”

Brienne felt liquid squishing up between her toes as her not-even-remotely-hot feet clenched in her champagne-soaked shoes.

Jaime leaned forward and hissed at Drogo, “Brienne’s toenails aren’t painted pink. She doesn’t get pedicures.”

Tyrion leaned across her to contradict him, “Not true. Brienne had her first pedicure yesterday.”

Jaime turned to her. “You didn’t tell me that. Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“I haven’t seen you since Tyrion dragged me to the spa,” she whispered back. “And why does it even matter?”

Drogo raised a brow and held up his hands, flexing his fingers, "I give a great foot massage. Strong hands.”

Tyrion stared at the large, masculine hand and its enormous skull ring with a look of horror.

Jaime pressed his shoulders back into the seat as if to get as much distance from Khal’s hands as possible.

In the awkward silence, Cersei’s character continued her monologue on the true meaning of joy to the seashell. As if a seashell would care.

Dany slipped back into her seat and quietly asked, “What did I miss?"

Drogo gave her a quick kiss.

Jaime looked at Tyrion.

Tyrion coughed.

Brienne smiled weakly.

Jon leaned forward, “As far as the movie goes, Myrtle is talking about her clinical depression.”

Drogo pointed over his shoulder at Brienne. "Blondie back here has really long toes. Tell her I give great foot massages."

Tyrion leaned back and corrected Jon, “The character’s name is Rhaenysianne, and she’s talking about how happy she is. Are you even watching the movie?”

Dany scowled and poked Drogo in the arm. "Those massages are all for me,” she whispered before turning back to Brienne. “Ignore him. He’s a foot flirt. I’ve only worn open-toed sandals since we started dating.”

Khal made a noise that sounded very much like a purr.

Tyrion snorted.

Jaime pressed his shoulder into Brienne’s.

Sam leaned forward and offered Dany some unsolicited wisdom, “Never, ever wear open-toed sandals in a Port-o-Walder.”

 


	6. Premiere Plus 00H 31M

Brienne watched Cersei crying in the shower and tried to ignore Jaime’s arm draped over the back of her chair. After passing the flask back to Tyrion the last time, he just hadn’t moved it. She shifted in her seat, and his fingers brushed her bare shoulder.

Dany turned around again and whispered, “Fucking water scenes. Now I have to pee again.” She slipped out of her seat and scurried up the aisle.

Tyrion’s phone lit up. He snorted and held it in front of Brienne’s face so she could read the latest review. Jaime pressed his face close to hers so he could read it, too. She could feel the stubble on his cheek.

_There are times in every young woman’s life that she’d like to forget. Her first experience with menstrual cramps. The discovery that she makes less money than her male colleagues.  When the homeless man at the bus stop tells her that her pants are unzipped. And when the actress she idolized as a child makes a flop as bad as The Wine is Not Enough. I’m going to curl into the fetal position now and pretend this movie never happened._

The movie really was terrible. Dany and Drogo played their scenes with a charm and wink to the audience as if they knew just how bad it was, but Cersei seemed to be playing every scene as if it were Shakesmartin.

Brienne was hungry. She slipped off her shoes, hoping they might finally dry out. Her feet felt sticky. She flexed her toes.

Jaime’s warm breath tickled the shell of her ear. “Don’t let Karl see you do that.”

Brienne glanced up at Drogo. His head was thrown back against the seat, and he emitted what might have been a snore.

“His name is Khal,” she corrected.

Jon leaned forward to put his head between them. “In the film, his name is Gormond.”

Tyrion turned in his seat. “No, it’s not. Are you even watching? I mean, I can’t blame you if you’re not, but his name in the film is Yorko. See.” He held out his phone to Jon.

Jon read the article a little too loudly for Brienne’s liking. “ _The one thing Cersei Baratheon does right in The Wine is Not Enough is have Khal Drogo do most of his scenes shirtless. Of course, one has to wonder why his character, Yorko the beleaguered accountant, gets so warm from completing tax forms. Not to worry though. Cersei’s distinct lack of chemistry with her male co-star doesn’t mean she’s been too lonely. We hear she’s been seeing the androgynous underwear model, Lancel, mixed Dornish arts fighters, the Kettleblack brothers, and maybe even the world’s youngest astronaut, Moon Boy, for all we know._

 _As for the film? The Pecs are Not Enough._ ”

Jaime’s fingers tightened on her shoulder. “I have better pecs than Dorko does. Don’t I, Brienne? Tell them.” He jerked his head back at Sam and Jon.

Tyrion pulled his phone back and looked up at her. “Please don’t. I’d rather not hear you waxing on about my brother’s hot naked chest again.”

Brienne blushed to the roots of her hair thinking about Jaime changing his shirt in front of her just the other day. It was undeniable. His chest _was_ hot. She should never have mentioned his pectoral definition to Tyrion.

Jaime lifted his brows and whispered, “Knew you liked me shirtless.”

Brienne tried to disappear into her seat.

Sam leaned forward and whispered, “Never sit in the director’s chair naked.”


	7. Premiere Plus 01h 04M

Brienne was tempted when Jaime offered her a drink from Tyrion’s flask, but she hadn’t eaten in hours, and alcohol would make her sleepy. Not that anyone would notice if she stole a quick nap. Drogo had thoroughly enjoyed his own, then fished Brienne’s shoes from under his seat returning them with what Jaime complained to her was an inappropriate leer. Now, after yet another bathroom break, Khal and Dany were in full canoodle.

Brienne’s stomach growled. She shook her head as Jaime passed the flask back yet again. She sort of missed the warmth of his arm around her shoulders. She shouldn’t have left her sweater in the limo. Suddenly, all she could feel was the warmth of his arm as it wrapped around hers and Jaime laced their fingers together.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

She could sense him roll his eyes. “You’re taking up the entire armrest, and it’s just more comfortable this way.”

It wasn’t more comfortable for her. She was sitting in a darkened theater holding hands with a man. Not just any man. With Jaime. What if someone saw? _What if Tyrion noticed?_ She glanced down at her best friend, but he was engrossed in a discussion with the chubby young man in the seat on his other side.

She looked up at the screen. Dany’s character was comforting Cersei’s for some reason. Brienne couldn’t even remember what was supposed to be happening, but the swell of the music made it clear that this was rock bottom for the heroine and that her life would improve soon. Not that the movie itself would improve. Brienne had no hope for that.

Screen-Cersei screamed and threw a champagne glass into the fireplace as screen-Dany looked on helplessly. The crowd giggled.

Brienne heard Sam murmur from behind, “Never give a temperamental lead actress real glassware.”

Jon tapped Jaime’s shoulder and asked, “What happened to the dog?”

Jaime snapped his head around. “What dog? There aren’t any animals in this movie.”

Tyrion joined the conversation. “Well, if you don’t count Cersei strutting around like a demented peacock.” He handed Brienne half of a soft pretzel wrapped in a napkin. “From my friend, Hot Pie.”

She took the pretzel and was about to offer anyone else a bite when Tyrion kicked her calf. “Don’t you dare try to share that. I got it for you and you alone, and if you don’t eat it all selfishly, I will drink directly out of the milk jug for the next week.”

Brienne narrowed her eyes. “You drink directly out of the milk jug anyway.” She took a bite of pretzel. It was slightly stale, but at this point, food was food.

Jaime’s chin rubbed against her bare shoulder as he spoke against her skin. “You can share with me. I like it when we share.”

She was so shocked, she forgot to chew her bite of pretzel and choked when Drogo turned in his seat and spoke.

“You share?” he asked Jaime, raising his eyebrows with the question.

“I most certainly do not,” Jaime barked, his hand tightening on hers.

Cersei’s scream pierced the air as her character ran through the rain sobbing.

“Rain. Well that’s just perfect,” Dany groaned as she rose to dart up the aisle.

“Listen to this,” Tyrion giggled as he read from his phone. “ _If famed script editor and legendary bore, Stannis Baratheon, performed a one-man show in which he spent four hours explaining the finer points of comparative adjectives, it would still be more entertaining than The Wine is Not Enough_.”

Brienne swallowed her pretzel as Jaime’s thumb stroked the back of her hand. She coughed. The dough formed a lump in her throat. It was definitely the pretzel.  
 


	8. Premiere Plus 01H 46M

Brienne puckered her lips and took a sip of whatever vile concoction Tyrion’s flask contained. Even at the best of times, she was not fond of liquor, but it couldn’t be helped. The pretzel had taken the edge off of her hunger but left her mouth drier than the Red Wastes. She swallowed the liquid. Maybe it wasn’t actually that bad. She took another small sip. It went down the wrong way, and she coughed as it burned a hole in her lungs.

Tyrion grabbed the flask from her and smacked her repeatedly on the back. “Don’t spill it, woman.”

Brienne caught her breath and glared at him. “So your real concern is your precious alcohol and not my health.”

“You’re strong as an aurochs. I’m the delicate one in this relationship.” He shot her a grin and took a sip. “And the pretty one.”

Jaime leaned across her and argued, “I’m the best looking Lannister, and Brienne’s eyes are prettier than yours.”

Brienne’s eyes were drawn to Jaime’s jaw. The perfect line. The perfect stubble. How was it possible that even his _bones_ were gorgeous?

Jon leaned forward and asked, “So are the people possessed by aliens the ones with the blue eyes, or is it just the screaming blonde woman?”

Dany answered him as she settled back in her seat from yet another trip to the ladies’. “There aren’t any aliens in this movie.”

Tyrion brandished his phone, announcing, “But maybe there should be.” He began to read, “ _Five Things That Could Have Made The Wine is Not Enough better: 1. Alien invasion; 2. Vampire ravens; 3. An imaginary pink aurochs; 4. The characters speaking in text-talk; 5. Full frontal.”_

Khal turned around, “I was willing.”

Dany elbowed him, “I want you to get naked only with me.”

Sam leaned forward to Hot Pie and advised, “Never serve chili on the day they are filming a nude scene.”

Jaime’s thumb ran across the back of Brienne’s hand again. “What about you, wench?” He nodded his head towards Dany and Drogo who had returned to putting on quite a scene of their own. “Who do you want to get naked with?”

Brienne felt as if her face were on fire. She instinctively tightened her fingers in his. “We are not discussing me naked. _Ever_. And my name is Brienne.”

Tyrion leaned across her to speak to Jaime. “Didn’t you see her naked a while back?”

Brienne gripped Jaime’s hand hard enough that she heard his knuckles pop. “You _told_ him? You weren’t supposed to tell him!”

Jaime extricated his hand from hers and flexed his fingers. “You’re the one who walked out of the bathroom naked. What do you expect? And I wanted to warn him about your nudist ways.”

“I am not a _nudist_. I walked out of _my_ bathroom into _my_ bedroom. No one, especially _you_ , should have been in my _bedroom_.” Brienne protested, horribly aware that her wish not to discuss her body, clothed or unclothed, had failed to survive ten seconds. “And I thought you’d forgotten that.”

Jaime rounded on her, “As if I _could.”_

Drogo leaned back. “We prefer the term ‘naturist’ over nudist, and if you’re interested, let me know.”

“And I’m in your bedroom all the time. I fell asleep in your bedroom just last week,” Jaime reminded her before growling at Khal. “She’s not interested in you.”

Dany leaned back with a grin, “But is she interested in walking around naked?”

Jaime got his glazed look again, already bored of the subject.

“No one is walking around naked in my house,” Brienne stated, trying to end the discussion.

“Oh damn. I was going to start cleaning in the raw,” Tyrion added.

“You will not,” Jaime and Brienne spoke in unison.

Snickers erupted from both in front and in back of them.

Brienne flushed and pressed back in her chair, trying to become invisible.

On screen, Cersei was crying and eating ice cream directly from an enormous carton.

Jaime put his hand on Brienne’s knee.

Sam whispered, “Always make sure the ‘spit bucket’ is clearly marked when the lead actress has an eating scene.”

Dany sighed in resignation and stood up again, “I never should have had that bottle of water on the red carpet.”

Jon leaned forward again and asked, “Are they going to be able to de-fuse the bomb in time?”

Tyrion turned around and scrunched his face up, “Do you know anything, Jon Snow?”

Jaime brushed his thumb against the hem of Brienne’s dress, then splayed his warm fingers across her bare leg.

Brienne shivered.


	9. Premiere Plus 02H 13M

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The finale, with a very short epilogue to follow.

Brienne was trying her best to ignore the warm circles Jaime was rubbing on her skin. The movie could have been the most interesting thing she’d ever seen, but she’d still only be able to think about the sensation of the pads of his fingers as they stroked her bare flesh. She was hot and flustered and covered with gooseflesh all at once.

It was like the time a few months ago when he’d driven her home from the gym and walked her to the door, only then realizing he hadn’t had time to come in and see Tyrion. Somehow that had become his habit. Just last month, he’d accidentally fallen asleep on her shoulder while they’d been watching a movie. And last week he’d brought over Pentoshi takeout, including all her favorites in his order. Even though Tyrion had been out, Jaime had stayed to eat it with her. He didn’t seem to care that she’d had a bad day at work and was in terrible mood. He spent the entire time listening to her problems, almost as if he really cared, and then trying to make her laugh. That was the night he’d fallen asleep in her room. It seem all too frequent he’d come over on nights when Tyrion had other plans, only to stay with her out of boredom.

They’d talked a lot, late into the night sometimes. But that’s just because she’d been there and Tyrion wasn’t and Jaime had wanted to talk. Jaime liked to talk. Not to _her_ , specifically. Jaime didn’t _like_ her, and no matter that he was stroking her knee, it didn’t mean anything, and she shouldn’t even think thoughts like that. It was always best not to read too much into things. She’d made that mistake before. She let out a long, plaintive sigh.

Tyrion handed her his phone again, but she really didn’t want to read another scathing review of what was certainly the biggest movie bomb of the year.

“You’ll like this one. Just read it. Trust me. I’m your BFF,” he assured her in the gentlest tone he’d used all evening. “Please.”

She felt she’d done quite enough for him this evening, but this was Tyrion, her first real friend. She took the phone from him and looked down.

Instead of yet another photo of Cersei, this was Jaime on the red carpet looking handsome in his tux. Though she was tempted just to stare at the image, she didn’t want to get caught ogling. She peeked over at Jaime before she scrolled down to read the article.

_More interesting than his twin sister’s latest is the fact that Jaime Lannister, most recently known for producing the blockbuster film trilogy, Azor Ahai: Resurrection, Azor Ahai: The White Walker War, and Azor Ahai v. The Prince Who Was Promised, is returning to his roots of small budget, independent films like the controversial biopic that made him famous, Sabres of Fire: The Aerys Targaryen Story. Instead of revealing the madness of a national hero, his latest film, Head of the Mountain, reveals the hero inside a woman. Starring newcomer Pia Purdy and directed by long-term second chair, Hildy Rivers, Head of the Mountain is already getting Varys buzz._

_When asked about his change of pace, Lannister said, “A while back, someone special reminded me that filmmaking is more than putting the biggest, best fight scenes on screen. It’s about telling stories that touch people, and there are far too many important stories out there that never get told because studios heads are cowards, unwilling to take any risks.” His new company, Goldenhand Productions, will be all about taking risks and telling stories. Notoriously private, Lannister did share with this reporter that the “someone special” is someone very special indeed. Will he soon be walking the red carpets with this particular lady on his arm? Jaime answered, “I can only hope someone as true and honorable as she is would give a man like me the time of day.” So readers, who has finally caught the eye of perennial bachelor Jaime Lannister?_

Brienne blinked and read his quotes again, the words too familiar. It was months ago. They’d been in his car. He’d mentioned the possibility of a fourth Azor Ahai film, even a reboot of the series. She’d told him he was wasting his talent. _You’re better than that…there are more important stories out there to tell..._ _why aren’t you willing to take a risk…are you so craven?_ She’d said. They hadn’t discussed it since. She had thought he was angry with her.

She read the end of the article again, Jaime’s words, _I can only hope someone as true and honorable as she is would give a man like me the time of day._

Brienne blinked and looked over at Jaime. He wasn’t watching the film anymore. From the snickers and twitters and general grumbling all around, she doubted anyone was. He was staring at his own hand, the one on her knee, as he traced patterns on her skin with his index finger. The same pattern over and over, a curve squiggling down to a line, then he’d tap a dot underneath. Over and over again, curve, squiggle, line, dot. _A question mark._

Suddenly it was all too hot and too close. She had to get out. Dany slipped back into her seat and elbowed the softly snoring Khal Drogo. A bathroom break. That’s what she needed. She stood up suddenly, Tyrion’s phone clutched in her hand, and moved to scoot past Jaime.

“You can’t leave me now,” he growled and put his hand on her thigh. “I don’t think I can make it through the ending without you.”

She glanced back and down at his golden head and green eyes, his perfect beauty. She stepped on his foot, scrambled into the aisle, and ran into the lobby.

Now in the harsh light of the closed concession stands, she read the article again. It hadn’t changed.

“Wench!” The word rang out. Her head snapped up. Jaime was walking towards her. “What are you doing out here?”

She looked down at the phone and tried to cover it with her hand. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. “It was stuffy in there. I couldn’t breathe. Go back in.”

Jaime shook his head and pulled out his phone. “I can’t leave you out here all alone. Let me tell Tyrion.” His fingers flew across the screen. And suddenly, in the near silent lobby, the strains of _My Heart Will Persist_ rang out from Brienne’s hand.

Brienne looked down at the offending technology. “He should have put it on silent in the theater,” she grumbled.

Jaime reached out to grab the phone from her hand. She held fast. “What were you looking at anyway? Another stellar film review?”

Her cheeks flamed. “Nothing. It was nothing.” She jerked the phone further away from him. “I had a work emergency.”

“Work emergency? Brienne, you draw maps. What, did they locate a school book which has the map of Southyros a millimeter too short?”

“I’m a _cartographer_ ,” she huffed. “I don’t just draw maps, and public education is important. A millimeter on a map represents sometimes up to one hundred miles, and maps influence perception, Jaime. These things matter.”

Jaime grinned at her. “I know it’s important. I’ve heard you talk about it enough. But I also know that there’s no such thing as a cartographic emergency. Let me see.” He moved in another attempt to grab the phone.

She tried to step around him, considering escape back into the darkened theater.

He mirrored her movement, blocking her way.

Jaime’s phone vibrated. He checked the screen. “Tyrion wants to know if you have his phone, and Jon wants to know when the second feature starts.”

“There isn’t a second feature, and I should get back inside,” she said as she made a quick hop, trying to slip between him and the candy counter. He was too fast, and with a sudden shift of his weight from one foot to another, stalled her escape, trapping her between his body and the glass snack case.

The sound of a toilet flushing seemed to gush from Tyrion’s phone. Brienne cursed herself for not putting it on silent. She checked the messages. She could sense Jaime inching closer, leaning in to try and see the screen. The message was from Tyrion via Dany’s phone. He said that Drogo was detaining Dany in the theatre with an impromptu foot massage so Brienne and Jaime could have some privacy. As if she and Jaime actually needed _privacy_. Her face flamed.

“So what were you looking at?” Jaime asked again. With a quick, well-timed grab, he snatched the phone from her hand. He glanced at the text message and smirked. He tapped the phone again, and his expression changed.

He looked up, staring into her eyes as he took another step closer, mere inches between them. “I see what you were reading.”

Her whole body seemed to flush. She turned slightly and moved backwards, bumping into the concession stand counter.

His face was so close to hers, his expression unreadable. “What did you think of my interview?”

She stared down at her shoes, and his, so close, before answering, “I didn’t know you were working on a new project.” She could feel him willing her to look up at him, but she resisted.

“What did you think I was doing? Sitting around all day looking pretty and waiting for you to call?” he grumbled.

Her eyes shot up to his. “Of course not,” she snapped. “I just didn’t know you were making a new film, and I never call you anyway.”

“And why don’t you call me?” he retorted. “I call you often enough.”

Before she could answer, Jaime’s phone vibrated again. He checked the message and handed it to her. It was Tyrion using Sam’s phone this time. _Brother,_ the message read, _have you told her yet?, and Sam says never miss an opportunity to kiss the girl you like._

Brienne ignored the second part and frowned at Jaime. “Tell who what?”

He ran his hand through his hair and huffed at her, “Didn’t you read my quotes, wench?” He held Tyrion’s phone out to her. She traded it for his.

She looked at the article again. “You said someone special told you to take risks and tell important stories,” she whispered.

Jaime nodded as he slipped his phone into his pocket, took half a step closer and put his hand on her hip. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, burning through the thin silk of her dress. “Someone _very_ special.”

She looked at his tie. She looked at his shoulder. She looked at the phone in her suddenly sweaty palm. “You couldn’t have meant me, Jaime,” she mumbled.

He let out a puff of air. “I couldn’t have meant anyone else.”

She met his eyes. “But _why_?”

“Brienne, you incredible, stupid, stubborn wench. You are special and honorable and amazing, and all I’ve been able to think about tonight is how amazing you look in that dress with your ass of wonder and those forever legs and wondering whether or not you’ll even like my latest project.”

How could he expect her to think when he was that close? She inhaled, wishing she could get some distance, “You don’t need my opinion. I’m no film crit一”

Before she could finish the word, he pulled her to him and his lips were on hers, a quick, hard demanding kiss. He leaned back, and his grip on her loosened. His hand came up to stroke her jaw.

Somehow, in that brief moment, one of her hands had gravitated to his shoulder and the other pressed Tyrion’s phone into his waist. He’d kissed her. Jaime had _kissed_ her. She slowly licked her lips, tasting the flavor of him.

“Yours is the only opinion that matters, Brienne,” he said.

It was probably the hunger, or the alcohol, or the look in his eyes, but she suddenly she couldn’t help herself. The words rushed from her mouth, “Jaime, I think you’re half a god.” Her face flamed with the truth of her words and if he hadn’t been holding her up, she would have melted into the floor.

He grinned at her. “Good,” he nodded and she could feel his smile spreading across her own face. “And I’m definitely not missing this chance to kiss the girl I like,” he whispered as he brought his lips back to hers.

It was a kiss like no other. Simple and soft at first, changing to something deeper and stronger until she felt herself melting into him, and then it was like a thousand stars were exploding around her, blinding her with a thousand clicking flashes of light.


	10. Premiere Plus 14H 04M - Epilogue

Tyrion popped another doughnut bite in his mouth and took a drink from the milk jug as he looked at the startled faces of his best friend and his brother, caught mid-kiss in the photos for the lead article in The Valewood Reporter.

_After last night’s premiere of The Wine is Not Enough, the crowd exited the theater thinking the biggest story in Valewood would be Cersei Baratheon's epic failure, but the sight of Jaime Lannister and his mysterious unknown girlfriend making out in the lobby is the only thing on people’s minds today._

_Who is the blonde warrior? How long has this been going on? Is she the inspiration behind Goldenhand Productions? But really, how tall is she? Exactly how long are her legs? And when is the wedding? Our source in the the Lannister camp reports that if Jaime has his way, it will be very, very soon._

Tyrion glanced at the closed door of Brienne’s bedroom and smiled. Very soon indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks all for reading. I'm glad I was able to provide a bit of laughter before the start of S6. I appreciate you all!


End file.
